


Photographic Evidence

by Anonymous



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Misunderstandings, Pseudo-Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 19:08:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1789972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every night (well the nights/days that they were both in the house at the same time and sleeping at the same time) Howard would go into Tony's room, sling an arm around his son's waist, pull him close and...sleep. Just sleep.</p>
<p>Maria would laugh, take pictures, and smile at having evidence of Howard caring about his son.</p>
<p>Unfortunately, it looks really damning from an outside perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [Prompt](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/5758.html?thread=7638398#t7638398)

Tony's mother kept photo albums in her room, neatly numbered and carefully ordered, fat with evidence.

Tony rolled his eyes every time she brought one out, smiling wickedly, and he was very sure he remembered his father wincing once or twice.

"Now, Howard," she would say, "I don't want to have to do this –"

"Lies, Maria," his father would mutter under his breath, all exasperated affection.

"– but you've been in that workshop for the past three days, it's time you got out and had a little fun."

"I'm a busy man!"

" _Howard_."

"Maria!"

Tony would always have to stifle laughter at that part. Sometimes he would encourage his father to take his mother out on expensive dates, sometimes he'd goad his mother into opening the album and going through every picture in excruciating detail to watch his father cringe in horror – "Oh, and look at this one, how sweet you both look, though really, Howie, couldn't you have scrubbed that oil off your face any better, tsk, you stained the pillow. The only reason I wasn't angrier with you was because oh, you two are so adorable! Look at your hand in Tony's hair, how sweet you are!"

Recitations like that would get a "Maria, no, Maria, stop, what do you want, diamonds, I'll get you diamonds, I'll take you dancing –"

"There's no reason to be ashamed about being affectionate with your son, Howard."

Evidently there was, because his father had insisted upon those albums having more security than his mother's jewellery if she was going to keep making them.

He'd threatened to burn them once and only once. It prompted the biggest fight of their marital lives that Tony knew of – Tony was half-convinced they were going to divorce; he kept sending Jarvis frantic notes from boarding school asking if Maria had thrown Howard's clothes out on the lawn yet, he had it on good authority that was the final straw in such cases.

He'd come back for Christmas to find the household still frigid with his mother's anger, his father hiding in his workshop.

Jarvis confided that he had expected Mister Stark to yield weeks ago but he suspected it was now considered a matter of pride not to, and that Mrs. Stark refused take any apology prompted by alcohol. Which meant that Howard had at least tried, Tony supposed, which was more than could usually be said when he was in the wrong.

Tony had gone to bed wondering if he was going to end the week with his mother giving his father divorce papers with 'threatened to burn my photo albums of evidence of him actually giving a damn about his son' listed as the cause under the Christmas tree.

He'd woken up to his father crawling into his bed, cuddling close to pet his hair, murmuring affectionate things he'd sooner cut his hand off than say in broad daylight, and he didn't even smell of alcohol. At boarding school Tony had started to consider saying he was getting too old to indulge his father's attempts at affection, but now that he was home… 

Well it was weird, he guessed, from what he could gather from listening in to the other kids at school, but it was nice to know his father cared and for as long as Tony could remember the only time and only way Howard would show it would be when he joined Tony in sleep. It was 'their thing', as his mother called it.

Okay, from the outside it probably looked odd and it might have been why that one maid only lasted a week into the summer vacation, but he liked the way his father would hold him, the sort of hugs he never got in daylight, and he always sounded so _proud_ of Tony. If Tony had to feign sleep to get that, fine.

There had been a soft shutter click and Howard had rolled out of bed, hitting the floor with a thump.

Tony had watched him chase a giggling Maria out of the room and then gone to find Jarvis and tell him he didn't think they were going to divorce after all, did he think they'd let him have some champagne to celebrate?

When his parents had died he'd gone through the photo albums, devouring the naked affection so often visible on his father's face, reminding himself – _he did love me, he did, he did, he was absolute shit at showing it, and maybe I **was** a disappointment and he didn't **like** me, but he loved me._

After the funeral he'd boxed them all up and forgotten about them for years.

He remembered them when he returned to the old mansion to check everything after the attack on New York, struck by a sudden fierce desire to remember something good – had he really forgotten the things his dad would say, holding him at night? That he was proud, that Tony was clever, that he just knew Tony was going to change the world in ways he couldn't even dream of? So he couldn't bring himself to say them at any other time, it didn't mean he hadn't meant them when he did.

(Maybe. Possibly. He really wished his brain liked him more and wouldn't give him excuses like 'oh, but if he did, why couldn't he say it to your face? Why always with you asleep? Because he was imagining the son he always wanted, not the one he had?')

The team _had_ been joking about a lack of any childhood photos that didn't come from a magazine and if nothing else, Cap would probably like seeing Howard as a family man. He decided to pick out a few of the less embarrassing ones, see if he could get that smile Steve had for things that reminded him of good times in the forties.

He had the box sent to the Tower, made a note to ask JARVIS about digitalizing his mother's photos, and continued checking all the old haunts.

He regretted that somewhat when JARVIS told him Clint had taken an arrowhead to the packing tape and opened the box. Apparently his scream of 'blackmail jackpot!' at the top of his lungs when he saw the first cracked leather album cover had brought the rest of the Avengers in – not running, but more 'a curious saunter, Sir'.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you guys about personal property?" Tony said, making sure to keep his hands in his pockets as he strolled into the room, not concerned at all, nope.

He was a bit surprised by the looks on their faces over the one open album – much guiltier than he expected; weirdly sympathetic, almost.

"I see you found mom's 'albums of evidence'," he said, rolling his eyes a little from sheer habit at the sight of their faded covers, and that made them look even more concerned.

"Tony," Steve started and then glanced at everyone else as if begging one of them to start first.

Tony frowned, bemused. Admittedly childhood photos weren't very interesting to anyone but the family involved but he didn't think the uncomfortable response going on was quite normal.

"Evidence of you being scared a lot?" Clint teased, but his eyes looked bizarrely intent. "How old are you in some of these, and still sleeping in daddy's bed?"

Tony scowled instantly, desperately hoping he wasn't blushing as fiercely as he thought he was. "Hey, I didn't have to do anything; it was usually him coming to my room to sleep with me."

The silence became charged and Tony had a moment of 'oh' as he realized what he'd just said. "That's not what I meant," he said quickly. "I mean, it's what happened, but saying it like that makes it sound –"

"Like what it was?" Natasha said, raising an eyebrow.

"'What it' – no! It wasn't anything like what you're thinking! It was just –" he flailed a bit, trying to grasp how to explain it properly. "It was just – our thing. He liked to sleep with me – just sleep! Mom took photos because she knew threatening to send one to the Board or whatever would get him out of the workshop and take her dancing or dinner or whatever. She thought it was cute."

"Cute." Bruce said flatly.

"Yeah," Tony said easily, choosing to ignore the ominous rumble in Bruce's voice. "She didn't really get why he only felt he could be affectionate with one of us asleep, so she'd take pictures every time she found us together. She teased him about it, it was loads of fun."

"Excuse me," Bruce said, shooting to his feet and walking out of the room. Tony frowned after him, confused, because _what?_

"Tony," Steve said gently. "I – you know I was friends with Howard."

"Yeah, so?" Tony said, seriously tempted to go 'well, duh'. Howard had been ridiculous about Captain America, it was common knowledge. People made not-quite jokes about it in documentaries and retrospectives.

"I was friends with Howard, but this is... if I'd known he would –"

"Would what?" Tony said. "Cuddle me in my sleep? Come on, Cap, it's no big deal."

"It is!" Steve protested loudly, sounding upset, as if _Tony_ was the one not understanding anything.

"No it – Thor – hey, Thor, you had the closest thing to a happy childhood here, tell him there's nothing wrong."

Thor looked up from the photo he was studying – Tony winced a little inside, it was one of his mother's old favorites, Howard holding him tight, fast asleep with his lips still pressed to Tony's forehead – and his eyes were truly ancient in a way Tony had never seen them before.

"A child knows right and wrong by his father's words, Tony Stark. Yours has misled you, I fear."

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated. "Damn it. We are not talking about this."

"You should talk about it," Natasha said, and was that _sympathy_ in her voice? "SHIELD has a considerable psych department for a reason, Stark."

"I wasn't abused!" Tony howled. "Seriously! I know it _looks_ weird –"

"It looks messed up," Clint said bluntly, "But hey, you're not ready to talk, you're not ready to talk. It's cool."

" _Thank you_ ," Tony said, before he had time to work out he was tacitly agreeing with Clint's assessment. "No, wait – fuck it, gimme my mom's photo albums."

The speed with which the box was shoved towards him was a little insulting, frankly. Tony heaved it into his arms and glared at everyone. "We're not talking about this ever again," he said firmly. "Got it?"

He could practically see Clint and Natasha sharing brain waves with their little glance at each other, trying to work out if they should tell SHIELD or not. At least Thor nodded instantly, even if it was a bit worrying how Mjölnir hummed at his side.

" _Got it?_ "

"Okay, Tony," Steve said, ever the leader. "You don't want to talk about it, we won't, okay? But if –"

"Nope," Tony said.

"If you ever –"

"Nope," Tony repeated, even louder, turning on his heel and stalking out. Seriously, if he'd known they'd get this weird about it, he'd never have given in to the teasing about his lack of childhood photos.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony had mostly forgotten about his team's reactions to his childhood photos – well, he would have, if they didn't keep trying to start heartfelt conversations about it and giving him sympathetic looks. 

Since they did, he pretended he'd forgotten about his team's reactions instead, and he mostly succeeded because there were a lot of things more important than his relationship with his long-dead father, they were all busy people, and if he kept his mother's albums hidden in his workshop just in case, that was a coincidence. You never knew when a fire could break out.

(He was insulted on his mother's behalf about his team's dislike, honestly – she'd been talented with a camera, dammit, and it didn't seem fair it was being ignored because nobody liked the subject of her pictures. See if he ever showed precious childhood mementos again.

…Not that he had many, but still.)

All of which meant he was actually surprised when SHIELD agents bland and blander turned up at work for a discussion 'regarding certain matters of a sensitive nature, please step into the office, Mr. Stark'.

They had copies of some of his mother's photos – he was pretty sure he knew who to blame for that – and uncomfortable expressions, and it might have been the most humiliating fifteen minutes of his life before he managed to get rid of them with the threat of lawyers – or maybe it was the yelling to shut up or he was getting his gauntlets – and that was saying something.

"JARVIS. Team meeting, get 'em all here now."

He paced the room wishing he still had some booze, but Steve had been giving him those sad puppy eyes whenever he caught him with a glass recently, so he'd decided to give sobriety a try for a while. If nothing else, it had made the entire team weirdly happy and more inclined to ease off on the 'why do you do this to yourself Tony, oh wait, pretty sure we think we know the answer to that' talks.

"Sir."

He whirled around at JARVIS' announcement, scowling as fiercely as he could manage.

"You told _SHIELD_? What the hell?!"

"Did you really expect us not to?" Natasha said. Her sympathetic looks were really starting to creep Tony out. "Howard Stark was a founder of SHIELD. It would hardly be right to deny them such information."

"You could almost consider it family business," Clint said cheerfully. "If, you know, the family in question was really fucking messed up and incestuous."

"That again?" Tony said, and turned his gaze towards one of JARVIS' hidden sensors. "J, where's the largest stash of alcohol these bozos haven't found and thrown out yet?"

"I'm sorry, sir. Agent Romanoff found and removed the last of it all on Thursday."

"Ah, _come on_. When I said I was going to try sobriety for a while, I didn't mean I never wanted to drink again!"

"It's not like we told everybody in SHIELD!" Clint said. "Just a few, need to know basis."

Tony glared at him. "I know just what kind of asshole I am, there's no way somebody didn't take the opportunity to share it around."

"It?" Bruce said dryly.

Tony glared harder. "You know exactly what I mean, don't pull that innocent face."

"You need to talk about this, Tony."

"No, no, I don't. Nothing happened! We swore we wouldn't mention this again!"

"If nothing happened, why did we need to swear not to mention it?" Clint pointed out sensibly, and Tony tugged at his hair in frustration.

"You guys are the _worst_ ," he snapped. "Seriously, the worst. What the fuck is your problem with my childhood? We're practically Team Daddy Issues, I swear, every one of you has had worse than my poor little rich kid sob story."

"Maybe it's that you have to listen to everybody talk about what a great man your abuser was," Bruce said. "At least we don't have to deal with that."

"Except Thor," Tony muttered and held his hands up peaceably when Thor looked at him. "Look, your brother apparently tried to commit genocide twice and suicide once, that's a symptom of bad parenting right there."

"My father is king of Asgard," Thor warned, his voice a dangerous rumble. "It is… a different matter."

"It's okay, big man, no need to tell me how someone can be both a great man in public and a shitty person in private. Been there, got the t-shirt."

"Good of you to get us back on track," Clint said brightly, and Tony groaned.

"I was talking about myself," he said, but the looks that got him were even worse.

"About Howard, Tony," Steve started, jaw tightening righteously, prepared for a fight, and how a jaw could do anything righteously Tony didn't know but Steve's managed it.

"Can we not talk about this? Is that not a thing we can do?"

"He abused you, Tony. You don't seem to be coming to terms with it, and you keep making all these excuses for him, but he _abused_ you."

"No, look, I _liked_ sleeping with him," Tony said, feeling his face heat a little with embarrassment. Who wanted to tell their friends they'd liked sleeping with their parents way past the age it was appropriate? "I mean, it was the only time he'd tell me he loved me, so of course I liked it, I guess, but –"

"I think I'm going to throw up," Bruce announced matter-of-factly, and lurched out of the room.

Tony frowned at him, because that hadn't looked like a throwing up green; that looked like a 'smash everything' green. Bruce knew Tony meant sleeping together literally, didn't he? He glanced at everybody else, and seriously, _why_ was Cap clenching and unclenching his fists like that? So Howard hadn't been Father of the Year, he'd done… okay. Okay-ish. Surely letting Tony know he cared was a _good_ thing, however… eccentrically he went about it. Wasn't Tony's opinion on his parenting the important thing here? Considering, you know, he was the one who'd been through it.

"It was fine," he insisted. "It was, it was nice and… Jesus, calm down."

"No, Tony," Steve said, and Tony felt his shoulders go up at the tone of his voice because he couldn't work it out and it sounded so… so bleak? Sorry? Bit of both? "It's not fine. Are you even listening to yourself? To what you're saying?"

"Are you?" Tony shot back, and ran an impatient hand through his hair. "Look, I get it might be difficult hearing about how your old pal wasn't exactly father of the year material –"

Steve laughed, a bitter noise without a single trace of mirth in the sound, and Tony stopped. "That is a considerable understatement."

"He did okay," Tony said, stung, because he could complain all day long about Howard and his mostly non-existent parenting skills, but that was because it was his father and if anybody had that right, he did. For people to try and undermine the one time his father actually did something right was just not on.

"No, he really didn't," Clint said. "Man, if the only time your father tells you he loves you is when he's abusing you, that's a serious fail right there."

"He wasn't abusing me," Tony snapped. "Where are you even getting that? Everybody knows I had the silverest of silvery spoon upbringings –"

"Yeah, you grew up Richie Rich, but I'm pretty sure no amount of money actually makes up for the fact that your father was a child-abusing sicko. And we're getting 'that' from, oh, I don't know, photographs your mother took – your _mother_ , Jesus – of your dad _fondling you in your sleep_."

"He didn't _fondle_ me –" Tony said, and had to stop because all the combined 'really? You're really going to try and say that with a straight face?' expressions were too much. "Okay, so let's not use the word 'fondle', way too many connotations there – he… petted me? No, that doesn't sound any better. Had a thing for stroking my hair? Liked to cuddle. Okay, so he liked to cuddle me in my sleep, just what is the big deal?"

Bruce, who had managed two steps back inside the room, turned sharply on his heel and went straight back out, shirt bulging alarmingly.

Natasha breathed out slowly and calmly. "That he liked to cuddle you in your sleep?"

"I'm not getting you," Tony said blankly, and ignored Clint's mutter of 'well that's obvious'.

"Tony. Grown men, adults, _parents_ , should not be crawling into their children's beds to 'cuddle' them while they're sleeping."

"Was he supposed to do it when I was awake?" Tony said, deliberately ignoring with effort the inflection on the word cuddle. "Because that would have been awkward and exactly what he was trying to avoid."

She made a noise like a half-swallowed laugh of frustration and shook her head. "Grown men should not be crawling into their children's beds."

Tony sighed and scrubbed his face with the palm of his hand. "Look," he said. "I appreciate all the concern, I guess, but just listen, okay? I wasn't sexually abused. _I wasn't_ ," he insisted, at another of those significant look exchanges. "He didn't do anything to me. He just wasn't a very demonstrative parent and he liked to keep all the touchy-feely affectionate stuff for when nobody else could see. For sleep. That's why he'd 'crawl into my bed'. It wasn't – okay, no, yeah, it was weird, but it was just the way it was with us and if he hadn't I'd never have got anything from him at all, so please stop trying to ruin his one piece of non-shitty parenting for me, okay?"

Natasha's sigh was probably the one that mountains gave when they crumbled. "Tony. Just listen to yourself."

"I always do," Tony said flippantly. "In fact, I'm usually the only one listening, most people tend to filter me out, so rude –"

"You are making excuses for a man who liked to pet you in your sleep."

"I wasn't actually sleeping a lot of the time," Tony pointed out, but from the looks on the others' faces that didn't help as much as he'd thought it would. "He thought I was, because he'd never have said the shit he did if he thought I could hear it, but I was usually wide awake."

"That doesn't actually change my point." Natasha said. "He liked to pet you while you were sleeping, or pretending to sleep. Do you not understand what I'm saying here?"

"You make it sound sordid," Tony said, making a face. "I told you, he never did anything like what you're thinking. It was parent stuff, you know, stroking hair and kissing cheeks and shit. You're making it weird because it happened in a bed. Well, on the couch sometimes. And – okay, shutting up."

"You're naked in one of those pictures," Clint said. "And look about eight."

"I'd been swimming, I was wearing a swimming costume! It's very awkward positioning!"

"And your dad's excuse for being half-dressed?"

"Probably started stripping off because he was covered in engine grease or something, mom threatened to take him to her weekly ladies' luncheon once if he kept staining the furniture while cuddling me."

"The more I hear, the less and less I like your mother's priorities," Natasha said grimly, closing her eyes and very obviously counting to ten. "I – we really think you need to see a professional about this. Help you come to grips with – everything."

"If I didn't see anyone for the vacation from hell, I'm definitely not seeing one for dad's A+ parenting."

"You should definitely have seen a therapist after Afghanistan," Natasha said. "You think Clint and I like going? No, but we do it anyway. Your mental health is as important as your physical to a mission."

"And we all know how highly I regard my health," Tony said, rolling his eyes, not quite missing the significant glances the team shared. Oh God, what crackpot theories were fermenting now? He hurried on. "If I'd seen a therapist after my big life-changing incident I'd probably have decided on a healthier coping strategy than 'build a suit of armor and blow shit up', and then where would we be? …Not talking about my relationship with my father, I guess."

"You think we _want_ to talk about this?" Clint said. "Look at Cap, he's nearing a breakdown over this."

"What." Tony said blankly, looking at Steve and realizing for the first time that he had his head in his hands, a perfect picture of horrified misery. "Seriously, Steve? I know he was your friend but that doesn't make him your problem."

"I'm sorry," Steve said helplessly, and what the fuck was he apologizing for? It wasn't his fault Howard hadn't been as good a parent as he apparently was a friend. "I'm really sorry, Tony, about – It's just – very difficult to come to terms with the fact that someone I thought I knew, someone I thought was a good man could go on to do what he did to you."

"He didn't –"

"Please, Tony," Steve said. "No more excuses for him, okay?"

"But –"

"Tony. Please." 

Tony wasn't enough of an asshole to go against the pleading note in _Captain America's_ voice, damn his childhood, so he shut his mouth and fumed at the relieved looks. Maybe he should have made more of an effort to actually participate in those one-on-one 'let's examine your habits in the context of child abuse' talks instead of shutting them down as quickly as possible, but… all the _feelings_ that had been going on in them, ugh.

"I'm not seeing a therapist," he said stubbornly.

"Yeah, we'll see about that," Clint said, holding his fist out to Natasha, and if Tony didn't find them mildly terrifying he'd laugh at the ridiculousness of two expert assassins fist-bumping.

"I'm _not_ , it'd be a waste of time just to explain my teammates got the wrong idea about my dad's means of expressing affection."

"Pick a photo in your mother's albums," Clint said. "Any photo. Show it to them and they'll agree it's not us who has the wrong idea."

"Fuck you," Tony scowled. "I can't believe you let SHIELD have copies. They'll be in the tabloids before you can say 'security breach'."

"If they are truly as innocent as you claim," Thor said, "why would that concern you?"

"Damn it, Thor! I thought the way you were keeping out of this meant you were on my side!"

"I am not so clever with words as our companions," Thor said easily. "I felt I would probably do more harm than good to their attempts to have you begin your path to acceptance of how you have been wronged. That, and my preferred means of dealing with this situation is rather ineffectual in this case."

"Your preferred means –?"

He raised Mjölnir, thrumming ominously in his hand.

"You can't take a hammer to my dead father's head!"

"Precisely," Thor said, unperturbed.

Tony threw up his hands. "I give up. For God's sake – not you, Thor – don't tell Pepper your little theories, okay?" 

There was another of those terrible glance exchanges, and he really was getting good at reading all the different varieties of significant look sharing. "Fine, look, I'll tell her myself, I'll explain everything properly, I swear, because you'll mess it up terribly and she'll think you're right about – so just, let me do it. Fuck."

"It's good to share such honesty with your partner," Thor said solemnly, and Tony sighed.

"I'm only doing it because she needs to know what you're thinking in case journalists start talking. Oh crap, she'll kill me if the stock takes a nose dive…"

"That's a point," Clint said. "With how famous you are, and your dad was, I can't believe it's never come out before."

"Because there was nothing to come out?" Tony offered. It didn't fly. "There was that one maid, dad had her fired, but not before he put a NDA on her so thorough I'm pretty sure she was convinced that if she spoke at all his lawyers would swoop down like flying monkeys. Also pretty sure one of the original lawyers is still in Legal and keeping watch. I think he might be a vampire."

"...nothing going on, yeah, right."

"There _wasn't_ ," Tony insisted, and watched Natasha kick Clint's ankle, hissing something about 'nice going, genius'. "It's just – well, you're prime examples of what it looked like to other people. Stark Industries couldn't afford that sort of publicity, even though _absolutely nothing wrong was going on_."

"Suuure."

"Nothing happened."

"Uh-huh."

"Nothing."

"Your dad put out a gagging order and fired some innocent maid just because she caught a glimpse of perfectly normal father-son bonding."

"Well when you put it like _that_ –"

"Tony, I'll get you the most expensive scotch I can afford if you'll just admit your dad fucked up, he fucked you up, and you'll stop making excuses for him."

"I can admit all those things, but not for the reason you're thinking them."

"Leave it, Clint," Natasha said. "You know you're just making him dig his heels in."

"Acceptance must begin within one's self or it will never truly take root," Thor agreed, and Tony scowled at all of them.

"Screw you all, I'm going to find Bruce and we're going to science all our problems away."

"Pretty sure science is a noun, not verb!" Clint yelled after him, and Tony flipped him the finger.

"Then you're not doing it right!" He got halfway down the hall and paused. "JARVIS. Keep a lockdown on it all, okay? Bad enough SHIELD knows –"

"SHIELD knows what?"

" _Fu_ \-- Who let you in?"

"What, I need an invite to the not so secret clubhouse?" Fury said, hands behind his back because Tony wasn't enough of a threat to bother apparently.

"JARVIS, just how much shitty karma do I have stored up and why is it all coming out today?"

"I couldn't possibly say, sir."

"I think you know why I'm here," Fury said.

"Agents Bland and Blander, right? Need a sensitivity training course, and coming from me that's really –"

"Stark."

"No, no, no, I just did this with the team; I'm not doing it again. Please leave your concerns about my father's apparently incestuous parenting style in the suggestion box, I'll read it never."

Wow, Fury's jaw clenching was terrifying.

"We need to talk, Stark."

Well, he couldn't let a line like that pass. "Whatever it is, I can change!" 

Fury's face managed to somehow become even more unimpressed and considering his baseline level of sheer 'don't even try', that was kind of breathtaking. "I'm not in the mood."

"You know what? Neither am I. Seriously, Fury, if it's about Howard, don't even go there."

"You want to tell me how these ended up in my inbox six times under various headings?"

"Did it have to be that one?" Tony said despairingly, staring at the printouts, one of which contained his half-asleep father drunkenly cooing over his round little six year old face. SHIELD agents had seen that. Maria Hill had probably seen that. He could never be sarcastic at her again. "And emailed? You know once something's in cyberspace it's there forever. I really am going to have to talk to Legal about this."

"You may have noticed," Fury said dryly, "but SHIELD is a covert intelligence agency. We know how to keep secrets."

"You've got planes with your symbol painted all over them!"

"Stark, not a whiff of this will get outside SHIELD, I promise you."

"Bullshit," Tony muttered under his breath, and held his hands up innocently at Fury's glare. "Look, Fury, I'm really sick of saying this, but it's really not what it looks like."

"That's good to hear, you can tell your therapist all about it on Monday. Already given the details to JARVIS. Be there, you don't want to know what I'll do if you're not."

"What did I do to deserve this?" Tony demanded as he watched the dramatic swirl of Fury's coat as he turned and stalked away. If Tony tried to walk like that he'd just look ridiculous.

"You said it yourself, it's probably karma, sir," JARVIS said. "I've set your alarm an hour earlier for Monday."

"Twenty years dead and still fucking things up for me," Tony sighed. "JARVIS, find me some alcohol, I'm going to need it."


End file.
